Wednesday, August 10, 2011

"Never Bite The Hand That Feeds You"

So there I was somewhere lost in sexual anxiety and a lack of anything close to sobriety! Yes this is another no shitter my friends from a couple of decades lost in this ol’ salts memoires. A time when nothing was more sacred than the comradeship with friends and a common interest for booze, babes and persons of the opposite sex! Yes them were the days to remember.

Life was as full of raunch and debauchery as a “coming of age movie” in the likes of Animal House or American Pie. We were just a few good men in uniform refusing to grow up and take on anything that resembled any parallel to what is known as responsibility. That was worse than a four letter word to our lewdness and iniquities. Yes we spent most of our time and money on beer, girls and plenty of foolishness. A silly bunch we were indeed spending life in the fast lane knowing that to slow down would mean to become domicile and tame. This my friends, we were not.

As I remember it there were several of us with Shawn and I usually heading the pack. Though I have to say I usually took a backseat to Shawn as I made a much better wingman to his debonair fashion and good looks. Though where he exceeded in his charm he sometimes lacked in good judgment, yet it could be argued that we all did at times….most of the time. We were a spirited bunch of blokes left unrestrained and often fell pray to our own misgivings…ha-ha.

It was around 1991-92 as we delved into the shitholes we called taverns and bars such as the Wheel House, Cheers, Drift Inn, Red Roosters (Crimson Cocks), Bernie’s, Crow’s nest, Castaways and the infamous El Camino’s. Many nights up until dawn rather hanging out at Denny’s for breakfast or in some young ladies friendly abode for an intimate nightcap. Yes, these were our golden years of the notorious pub crawl!!

On this particular night with one noteworthy friend of mine we headed out on another enticing evening of immoral self-indulgence as we met up with some young ladies of the red blooded Native American variety and tangled with them in a bit of flirtatious conversation. Humor was always the best method to win a dame over as I’m sure not much has changed over the years. After several hours of toxic libations and copious amounts of laughter it was time to close the bar and head off into the moonlight for one of those tantalizing nightcaps I spoke of previously. As both my compadre and myself were feeling a bit lucky on this evening it was too unfortunate that the lesser of the three ladies we were to accompany home was without a bedmate. It was quite a shame as there was 200lbs of good loving to be had and no one for her to share it with.

Needless to say on the way home she was our chauffeur for the rest of the evening as she had the only car between the five of us. On our journey from our illustrious shithole of a sailor bar to the local Indian Reservation in Kingston, oh did I mention these dames were Native American? The two young ladies we happened upon were non stop in their antics of mockery and ridicule at the third wheel of the night. It was a wonder we made it safely to our provocative sanctuary without despair as the poor doll surely did not deserve the malaise she had received from her cohorts.

Nevertheless, we made it safely and dispensed with any further delay as we entered our perspective bedroom of lustful and timely copula. Yes it was a night to remember as we had hit the jackpot and put another notch on the ol’ bedpost to dignify our masculinity once again. Yet there was something we had left unnoticed in our inebriated abandonment, the young Miss left to herself. In our selfish act of intemperance we left her humiliated and displeased in her situation. Looking back I cannot blame her for her disposition as I’m sure she had much self gratification leaving us alone with no car to get us back home.

In the morning we found ourselves a good thirty minute car ride away from base and no transportation to get back. Our ladies of the night had no telephone in operation and thoughtfully deterred us from asking the neighbors as we were clearly the only two white boys in the proximity and any attention to ourselves might be cause for bodily harm. Those Native American boys don’t take very kindly to us white boys having sleepovers in their neck of the woods.

Lucky for us it was early enough to sneak out of the tribal dominion and head out on foot five miles to the closest convenient store. We somehow managed to acquire a taxi cab at a cost of over $50 between the two of us and three hours of unauthorized absence once we arrived at the ship. This is not an easy story to believe when explaining our alibi to a very irritated Chain of Command. Lucky for us it was a week before Christmas in 91’ and the ol’ man wasn’t to be bothered with such an annoyance. For punishment we were to refrain from taking any leave of absence for the holidays and come into work every morning to strip and wax our Department Head’s office rather needed or not. By chance we had a forgivable Chief on duty the day of Christmas and told us to get the hell out of there and enjoy the day off.

To us this was a night to remember and though the recourse was daunting it was just and worth its while. Though I learned a valuable lesson in all of this and a couple of idioms come to mind,

“Never Bite the hand that feeds you!”

and

“Having a taste of your own medicine!”

Life my friends is a lesson learned, and may we never forget this!!


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